Saturday, January 27, 2007

Friday, January 26, 2007

The NFL has come up with a ban on tailgating and RVs in Miami at the Superbowl. Read this and see. I mean, I 'm not into tailgating or any of that stuff, but this "security issue" sounds more like a cheap assed gimmick to force people to buy expensive food and booze inside the stadium.

Wounder what she thinks about it?

Oh, yea, it must be friday. Happy weekend folks. It'll be gun shows and sloth for me.

Saturday, January 20, 2007

I was piddling around the web today and I found a really interesting documentary on YouTube looking into the issues of Religion and Atheism. It lasts about an hour if you watch both parts, which I recommend you do. It's very interesting. Don't assume that it's going to take one side or the other. Hope you enjoy.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Someone is always posting something interesting, setting off the Rantosaurus Rex, and then I end up filling their comments page with astoundingly well thought out brilliance, when I really should just direct them here and post the rant in the comfort of my own venue.

Some people get pissed about it, the way some people get pissed easily about a lot of stupid shit. Who'd a thought there'd be rules and Rule Nazis in the bloggosphere? So ok, I'm, slowly learning. So I worked for a little while on this beotch. I might as well re-post it here too. Are there rules about re-posting? Oh yea, eat shit and die motherfucker. This is my crib. I sets the rules, and I HATE fuckin' rules. So here goes nothin'.

Big Dick over there posted something, commenting about a post this guy put up about some group in Virginia, calling out on MLK day for reparations for Black people. That's what set it all off.

I'm of two minds on this subject. I can see why they want them, but I can also see why I and a lot of other hard working White people don't want to have to pony up the money. And don't tell me that they just want to get the money from the corporations or the government, because who the fuck do you think will end up paying the real Bill then? Here's my rant, as it appeared over at Dicks place. I added a few bits to the end. So shoot me. Here we go:

If you listen carefully to the rhetoric of the reparations crowd, what they really want isn't a payback for slavery. It's a payback and apology for both slavery and the hundred years of lynching and discrimination that followed slavery. They want something for the generations since 1865 who couldn't buy a home and then later pass that accumulated wealth on to their kids, and jobs and educations they couldn't get, and the beatings they took, and worse, when they tried to vote. But they make the mistake of calling it reparations for slavery, which allows most white folks, me included, to think and say stuff like "Hey, fuck you man. I never owned a slave in my life". They also want a free and open national discussion of how they were fucked over for 400 years, which most of us (White folks) would like to avoid. It's like getting today's German or Japanese populations to have a frank and open discussion of the atrocities their fathers and grandfathers committed. Good luck on that one. Who wants to be the subject or target of an endless guilt trip for things you personally didn't do?

Thing is, we all (White men), in one way or another, still benefit from the advantage our predecessors had, the "affirmative action" boost that being White gave them, allowing them to get somewhere without having to compete with Blacks, or Women, in the process of making it in this country (lets not even start talking about reparations for women!). Whether they had anything to do with setting up the system or not, they benefited from it, and that's what they want us to pay them for. My point, and my answer to them is simple; every group in the world, at one time or another in history, has ether been fucked over or fucked some other group over in order to make it in the world. That shit is as old as time itself, and the crap you went through back in the day was just your turn. We've all been through it. It ain't gonna change, so you might as well get over it.

Bringing it up in this day and age, with Black people seeing greater and greater success in America, leaves their "leaders" sounding more and more like wining little bitches, living in the richest country in the history of the world, crying about the past as they show off all the "bling" and shit that they've been able to accumulate since. We've all got problems today, so get over it. Tell little wet footed Ramon about yer problems, 'cause he wants our shitty little jobs, and he works harder than ether of us, and he's a hell of a lot easier to put up with a lot of the time.

That's what history is all about. Read a history book sometime. It's all about little groups of people, viewing themselves narrowly as being part of a separate group from everyone else, screwing over their neighbors in a mad dash to keep from being subsumed in the struggle by all the other little groups. Slavery is as old as prostitution, and as hard to get rid of. There are experts out there now who say that more people are enslaved today around the world than were back in the 19 century. That's a fact, and Africa is still the center of it all, and Arabs still run it.

It wasn't till the 18th century that Europeans began to see themselves and others in a different way. The Age Of Reason taught all of us about our humanity, "Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness", and all that shit. Within a hundred years or so of that slavery in America was over, and being actively suppressed in Africa by the same European powers who'd run it for 300 years. We all got scruples about it in time, and it took another hundred years to get over the legacy of it and end legal segregation.

So it's over and done with right? Naaa, That shit will never be over. It's too deeply set as a part of who we are as a people. And it's still too easy to blame other successful people for your own lack of success, and objectify other people, whether you have any power over them or not. That's human nature. Period. Maybe in a hundred more years we'll see the end of it here, as we slowly turn, ethnically at least, into a country more like Brazil, and it becomes harder and harder to tell the difference between the ancestors of the lynchers and the lynched. Who knows?

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Woke up this morning and found a thin layer of sleet on the yard, the cats water bowl frozen solid, and one decent icicle hanging from the bamboo plant rod. This is what constitutes bad weather hereabouts folks. I wish it would really snow, but you can't have everything.

The weather forecasts last night predicted bad driving weather, and I gleefully watched the names of closed or delayed schools and business's scroll across the TV screen, looking for the two names I needed to see so that I could shut off the alarm and relax. They didn't show up. The folks I work for are notorious for waiting till the very last minute to make that sort of decision, or avoiding the decision at all and letting the army make the call.

so I was up early, getting ready to make the drive to Florence. Found my phone in my pants with a dead battery. I went to change it out, and found a message on there from the school counselor in Florence telling me they'd cancelled class. Yipeee! Three more hours of sleep. Went back to bed and woke rested, with four big cats in the sack with me, huddled together to stay warm (have the house set at 68). Went in to the base at 11:15 or so, past two bad accidents on the road. I did the 11:30 to 12:30, and got most of the way through my 12:45 to 1:45 class when the building administrator walked in and said that the base was closing at 1:30. We all went "YEAAAAA!". Made a short trip to the closest Chinese food buffet and then back to the warm glow of this beotch.

Found the cats still slapped up in the sack ( I think the only person who lives better than these cats is Mushy. Check out his "Moochings" to see what I mean). And yes, that's my get-away gun over in the corner, locked and loaded. And yes, those cats are huge. That's a tall, king size bed they're sprawled out on.

Yer thinkin', "damn, the teachers have the same attitude about snow days that the kids have". Yep, we love the hell out of them. I remember when I lived in England or Missouri as a kid, where a snow day was REALLY a snow day, and we'd spend a stolen free day playing in the deep wet snow, trudging through the woods, making snow forts and shit. In Missouri, I remember being amazed at the first sight of the ice on the trees. It looked magical. Inevitably my buddies and I would walk down to the creek and see if we could walk and slide on the ice. Sure enough, one of us would break through, but only to the knees. Mom still talks about us coming home to get dry clothes and then going out again. THOSE were the days. Now all I want to do is lay in bed with the cats and read. Times change.

Weather forecast looks like more of the same for tomorrow. Stay off the road if you're anywhere near here, and cozy up to someone or something warm. I'm gonna try to finish that book I've been reading. Later.

UPDATE; I just got the call. No school tomorrow morning ether. Sleet and snow are pilin' up. Yipeeee!

And dig this, just for jollys. Wait for the big finish.

Looks like an ammo dump or a tank cookin' off. And I think that's the "Rebel Yell" there at the end. Occurs to me that this is like one of those videos of some guy setting up a million dominoes to make a fancy design, only way cooler.

Sunday, January 14, 2007

Try this on for size. Can't say I really "cooked" it, but I did "prepare" it.

Two jars of Bush's Best, Homestyle with beans (HOT!), and a can of petite cut, diced tomatoes with zesty jalapenos. Not for the faint of spirit, or those that are light in the shorts.

Spice to your own taste (I put some sugar free syrup for the slight sweet taste that I love), and noodles of your own choosing (these are Rotini). I think I tossed some pepper, fajita seasoning, and garlic powder in there for shits and giggles.Presto! Two days worth of cold weather food. Well, one days worth for the FHB, two for the little people. Have some saltines with it and the beverage of your choice, and slap yerself up in front of a good flick. I've got Dances With Wolves on AMC this afternoon.

As Hollywood diatribes on the way we fucked over the Indians go, it's pretty cool. Inaccurate in a few basic ways, but still cool. I mean, if they're gonna portray the soldiers accurately, which they basically do (in a way that would upset our 21st century sentiments), they should do the same for the Lakota. There are a few scenes in the directors cut that even out the picture a bit. I think the book was supposed to be more true to history, but that's the way things usually go.

Friday, January 12, 2007

I've come to the end of the first week of another semester. Seven classes smoothly launched, and one more online course idling on the sidelines, waiting to get launched in a week or so. One of my new classes is a month long thing that goes two hours a day, Monday through Friday, from 5pm to 7pm (like the mini term I taught over the holidays). Until this thing is over, dad and I will be shifting our weekly Friday night, 6pm Chinese food binge and purge to Saturday night. Dad's cool with it. A temporary discombobulation.

By the time this one ends I'll be starting another three week class that will run from 2pm to 5pm ever day. We'll be back in business then, but until then, Saturday will work out fine.

So, it's that special day again. Lets lather up, shake it off, and get right to it.

Mmmmm. Something about the smell of hand lotion. Anyway, Here's a real hero of mine. Ya gotta love a guy, on one level or another, who knows how to show it off and be proud of it.

Of course, there's humorously plump, and then there's the friggin' Graf Zeppelin. Always amazed at the idea that people let themselves get so ridiculously big. I mean, I've been knownto strike fear into the hearts of Chinese food buffet owners all over the civilized world, but this chick has let herself go. WAY too much of a good thing, I guess. Then again, there's worse things.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

Well, it would'a looked somethin' like this (some of these are a bit fuzzy - I'm still figuring this digital camera out).

Here's the secret... They still would'a got beat like step children (that's another story), but they would'a looked cool as hell while they got beat. But don't say that in front of these dudes. They're VERY sensitive. Don't call it "The War of the Rebellion" ether. Just don't. Trust me.

I went up to Gatesvill to shoot Sunday morning with a buddy and a few of his friends, all Civil War buffs and reenactors. We'd all met before, at gun shows and such. The scope of their knowledge about the uniforms and buttons and tools and minutia of the period would make a doctoral candidate roll it up and go back to waiting tables at Chilli's. I shit you not. It amazes me.

They brought their muzzle loaders and I brought my two latest acquisitions, nether of which had been fired before or sighted in. I wasn't expecting to be able to put on an exhibition, other than making more than my share of noise at the appropriate moments. My buddy also had a new acquisition. At a show in Nashville, which is supposed to be the ultimate Civil War show in the country, he picked up a Hall rifle. Very cool. More on that later.

We all met at my buddies house at about 10:30am. The place is like a museum. I took pictures of his Revolutionary, Mexican and Civil War musket and rifle collection and a few other things but they all came out fuzzy. maybe next time. You can see a few rifles hanging on the upstairs wall, way in the back. Anyway, one guy was trying to sell a few artifacts to the others, doing some early spring cleaning in his collection, and so we got to check out a few things.

This is a Union cannon ball, with powder and time fuse still in tact. Yep, he's holding a 140ishyear old, live, unexploded round, dug up out of the ground by reenactors and others who go over old battlefields with metal detectors, just so they can find treasures like this. Boys and their toys. I told them that this picture would provide the authorities the evidence they needed to identify the cause of death, just in case.

After a bit we piled into my buddies half ton truck and rolled out to his back 40, which has served as his family firing range for about 40 years, since the time his family moved to Gatesville from outside Dallas in the 1960s. They sold the 100 acre plot they had there and bought this 400 acre plot for the same money. Now much of it is leased to a guy who raises cattle on it, but my buddy's got 20 acres and access to the rest any time he wants. Nice.

Recently the county, or the power company came by and asked for permission to string power lines through this stretch of his property, which parallels a main road about 100 yards to the left of this picture. The consensus of our group was that it was time to set up a bench further back...

so that we can practice at a longer rages. Note the 1/2 ton truck on the right of this picture, sitting at the 100yd line. That's where we always shoot from.

My buddies dog, Red, followed us out to the range, as she always does. She's a sweet, well tempered pit bull mix, mutt, that just showed up out there one day and his mom began to feed her.

She showed up displaying evidence of having been shot before. Note the scar on her right side. There are actually two scars, showing a bullet track that glanced down her side, in and out. She lived, obviously, but have you ever heard of a dog with post traumatic stress disorder?

Usually she disappears as soon as we start shooting. We were expecting her to vanish this time and then join us again when we rolled back to the house. So imagine our shock when I glanced into the truck as I was heading to the spotting scope set up on the hood, and there she was.

As the day went on, she moved further into the truck, and began to duel all over everything, shaking with fear. We'd talk to her and pet her from time to time, but she wouldn't budge.

She wouldn't budge, so, we went back to shootin'. I know, selfish pigs.

I laid out my goodies on the back of the truck as the others got ready and started blasting away. The nearest rifle is a Hungarian folder, shooting 7.62x39. The farthest is my new Polish Tantal, shooting 5.45x39. Note the more dramatic curve to the 7.62 clip. It's an easy way to tell the difference.

We took turns shooting, but there wasn't any organization to it. Just blast away whenever you feel the need. I watched them a lot. The process of loading and firing those old things is a sight to watch. They take forever, and then I just flip the safety lever and blast away. To each his own.

Lots of fun.

I let one of the guys shoot his first AK, and he let me load and shoot his Springfield. Here he is, shooting my new Tantal (see previous post). It fires a round that is about the same as a .22, but with a lot of powder behind it. It's basically the Soviet answer to the .223, as introduced in Vietnam.

Here's me loading...

And shooting his .58 cal. Springfield (reproduction). These things are a huge load of fun, and these guys are REALLY into it. Biting off the paper and loading the powder and mini ball was a huge pain in the ass. I can't imagine having to do it under fire, as guys are being blown away all around you. Training!

These guys have all the gear and it's easy for them to relax and fall into a familiar stance. I don't see myself ever getting this much into these things, but I will have one of these rifles one of these days, and these guys will come in very handy when it comes to figuring it all out.

Lots of pouring stuff, and ramming and tweaking of things. Please, get yer mind out of the gutter! This is a MANLY pastime. 'Course, even manly men need ear protection. Were not crazy.

Anyway, back to that Hall rifle. Take note of the action on this baby (and the powder residue around the hammer from several firings). In stead of ramming the ball down the muzzle, as in the other rifles we were shooting, this one has an action that pops up to allow you to load it more rapidly, almost like a percussion pistol.

Note how he's popped the action out and is pouring powder into the hole. Thing is, when you fire this thing (and yes, it is an original 1819 model Harper's Ferry Hall rifle he's shooting), there's a little gap between the action and the barrel. As I said, it's like firing an old cap pistol from the same era, only this thing is right up in your face when it goes off. When I got my turn to shoot it my buddy made sure I had my glasses on.

This was taken a second after I'd shot, and you can see how I instantly pulled the thing down and away from my face as I was splattered with powder and bits of crap. It makes it clear why this rifle design never really took off. My buddy said, after shooting it a dozen times or so, and figuring it out, that it would very probably be cleaned and hung on the wall, never to be shot again. Too much friggin' trouble compared to what he's used to.

One guy tried to get an old antique percussion pistol to shoot, but couldn't. the nipples were fouled, or something. So he switched to plinking away with a new toy he'd picked up at the gun show in Dallas the day before.

Again, we all took turns in the end. This is my buddy, the geologist, shooting his friends .45 Taurus. By this time we were all pretty much spent.

Then the weirdest thing happened. As the noise of the shooting died down and we talked, we slowly began to recognise the sound of a child crying. Weird. It was coming from over by the road, to our left in these pictures, in the woods. My buddy and I walked over to see what it was, with all sorts of ideas rolling through my head. Had someone dumped a kid off on the road? What the hell?

Turned out some little brat had been giving his mom too much lip, so she stopped right there on the side of the road and let him have it. From the sound of it I think he' was learning a valuable lesson, but I'm sure that she was lucky a highway patrolman didn't drive by as she was conveying that lesson, in mid swat.

We drug the dog out of the truck, wiped away some of the duel and drove back to the house. She wagged her tail as she ran back beside the truck, happy as a clam. No frontal lobe. Very handy in pets from time to time. We parted, promising to do it all again one day soon. I drove back to Killeen, and then after a bit of a rest I drove to Temple to eat with the folks. Mom had called to inform me that she was cooking eggplant parmigian and fried chicken, and I know what to do when that happens.

I arrived having made a stop at HEB to pick up drinks for dad, just as the goodies were being served.

Mom was in rare form. The chicken and parmigian melted in your mouth. It was so good, and the thing is...

I got to take home the leftovers. I'll eat well for days. Well, for about one day. One and a half.

Dad agrees, Mom's place is the best restaurant in town. He ate the Chinese food I got him Saturday night in Hillsboro. He loves that creamed shrimp. I'm not stupid. Shrimp for him means more chicken for me. Note the cat on the left side of the picture. His name is Mo, and he's waiting for his share. He's dads buddy. He showed up in my back yard one day and my cats beat his ass for a week until I could catch him and get him fixed and turned over to the folks.

Eventually I went home to my own cats, who were glad to see me. It was a hell of a weekend, and the week that began Monday, with seven classes starting, would make me wish I'd spent the two days in bed, but there you go. As someone said once in a great flick, there'll be enough time to sleep in the grave.

Pfew, that was along one. It's back to short inappropriate posts from now on, at least for a while. I'll be too busy for another magnum opus like this. Anyway, thanks for slogging through, and I hope you Dug the scene. Peace out babies. I'll see ya in the later.

Sunday, January 07, 2007

And I DON'T mean I went to Big "D" and picked up a DVD of Brokeback Mountain. I tell ya what, they never cease to amaze me. Stumble bums! Bless 'em, there's always next year, I suppose.

The trip to Dallas, to the Gun show, turned out to be a lot of fun. Left here at about 930am. Swung by the drive-through at Jack-in-the-box for breakfast (a supreme croissant with mayo- to die for), and then zoomed up north. Got to the outskirts by 1130, when a buddy called me on my mobile.

One of my colleagues out at the collage, a geography teacher, is an avid civil war buff and reenactor. He lives on a bunch of land up near Gatesville, north of Ft. Hood. We've been planning to get together and shoot for a few weeks. A few of his buds (all civil war reenactors) and I are showing up at his place Sunday morning and while they shoot civil war muskets, .58 or .69 caliber, or thereabouts (LOTS of fun), I'll be plinkin' away with a few of my AKs. We'll make lots of noise.

I knew we were gonna get together and shoot on Sunday, and I was planning to meet up with another friend in Dallas and do lunch and maybe a movie, so didn't go to great lengths to see if this guy wanted to drive up Saturday and do the gun show with me. I called Friday evening and left a message on his machine just in case he wanted to go, kinda hoping he wouldn't want to. Shit man, I had other plans. Places to go and people to see. I mean, the FHB has a responsibility to his fuckin' public, you know what I mean?

Anyway, I got to the outskirts of Dallas and guess who calls me, FROM THE GUN SHOW? It was hilarious. Turns out he and a buddy from Waco (another reenactor who's gonna be there Sunday) had headed up at the crack of dawn and had plans to go and do stuff after, so he didn't call me. I told him my version of the same story and we had a good laugh. We ended up meeting at the show and passing as we went up and down the rows. He took an old percussion rifle up there to see if he could sell it, and when we connected he was walkin' around with no rifle and $500 in his pocket. Good boy. I'll see him tomorrow morning and we'll waste a lot of lead.

Got to the show at about noon, and I tell ya, I've never seen such a crowd at Market Hall before. Fuckin' ant hill. Something about the Democrats being in power makes gun sales skyrocket, I guess. I had to stand in line for 15 minutes, with the line snaking out the front door, under the trees and out to the parking lot. I couldn't believe the crowd, and nether could any of the other folks in line by me. Thank God it moved fast. Once I got in I went right over to see my gunsmith, who always has a table there, and he went out to his truck to get my newest toy. $525 later, I'm the proud owner of a new custom built Tantal, a Polish version of the AKS-74.I bought a parts set (a set of Polish military surplus parts lacking the receiver) a few years ago, bought a receiver last year at a show in Ft. Worth, and handed it all off to my gun smith. One interesting thing about a Tantal is that the military version had a selector lever on the left side of the receiver, as well as the typical selector lever on the right side that all Kalashnikovs have. Turns out my parts set included this lever for the left side, and my gun smith knew a guy who could set it up and make it work. He also had the correct Polish markings engraved on the receiver. It looks great. Can't wait to shoot it tomorrow.

The show was fun. I saw lots of cool stuff, but mostly the same stuff that one usually sees. This time though, I saw something very cool that I didn't know existed. The salesman called it a "Beowolf". Check it out.

At first glance it looks like a conventional AR, M-4 carbine type, civilian version of the M-16, with a lot of after-market stuff attached to it. There's a million of these out there. They're a huge draw at these shows. It looks conventional enough, but then you focus on the ammo and yer head begins to spin. Check it out.

Turns out its a new short .50 cal. round designed for the military, and now available to the civilian market. God Bless America, I tell ya what! It's a .50 cal. carbine, using the same clip as an M-16, same firing pin, and everything else accept the barrel and a few other things.

Note the difference between this new .50 cal. and a conventional .223, usually fired from and AR.

20 rounds of this new ammo fit in a government issue 30 round AR clip. I couldn't believe it. The guy said the military was using them to shoot out engine blocks, and that the coast guard has a lot of them. They're a lot easier to use than a Barrett in close up situations, I guess.

Anyway, after the show, I went to Duncanville and met up with my other buddy, a literary agent who's just finished a big book on Custer. I handed off a book I'd just finished that he'd said he wanted to read. No Country for Old Men, by Cormack McCarthy. Check it out. It's pretty good. One of his best, I think, even though there are a few problems. I won't go there. Check it out. We went to eat Stromboli's at a local Italian place and then raided a Barnes and Noble for about a half hour while waiting for our movie to start.

I picked up a couple of 2007 calenders at 50% off. Always wait till January to get calenders. Then we went to the multiplex and saw Children Of Men, which turned out to be very good. I'd heard a few iffy reviews of it, but I liked it a lot. It's not that there aren't holes in the plot, and issues with the plausibility of a few things, but I still liked it a lot. Some amazing scenes. Lots of hand held camera shots, including one continuous scene that goes on for about 10 or 15 minutes. Amazing.

After that we split company and I drove home in the rain. Stopped in Hillsboro and picked up some creamed shrimp for dad at a Chinese food place there (imagine that), and then drive on down to Temple to deliver it. The Cowboys were ahead by about 3 points when I got to the folks, but they'd self destructed by the time I got home to watch the end. Again, there's always next year.

So, It's late, and I've got to get to bed so I can go shooting in the AM. So buzz off. I'll see ya in the later, maybe with pictures of the action from the digital camera. Of course, if I wake up and it's still raining, I ain't getting out of bed. Anyway, later on. Peace out.

Friday, January 05, 2007

Just finished that mini term. Finals still need to be averaged and stuff, grades posted, but it's done. Another semester starts Monday. Seven classes beginning at the butt crack of dawn and going till around 945pm, with a few periods in there for shits and giggles. It's a living.

I found a message on the machine from mom when I got home this evening that dad is feeling puny tonight, so our regular Friday night Chinese food binge is off. Sheesh. I've gotten to where I really look forward to those outings. Trying to think of an excuse to use for going anyway. Going to a gun show in Dallas tomorrow, so we can't go then, and mom's cooking Sunday (fried chicken, I think). Needless to say, next week is out, till Saturday. The teaching schedule will have me on base till 7pm every Friday. Dads usually headed for bed by then.

So, it's a quandary.

Hey, what the fuck. Advantage of being a single man is that I can do whatever I want and don't need a good excuse, right?

So I'm off. Everyone have a great weekend and we'll chat in the later.

Thursday, January 04, 2007

Like brothers. Uh, but this seems a bit odd. From the lookof the rifle I think they're Brits perhaps? Surely this isn't inthe training manual. Maybe something they came up withon their own. "Hold me Cyril, I'm a skeeered." Just seems anodd, unstable platform, is all I'm sayin'. Fill me in please.

Omaha is banning sledding at the Zorinsky and Cunningham Lake dams, which are both popular sledding spots. It is also banning ice skating and ice fishing on frozen ponds and lagoons in city parks. The move is in response to a court decision that resulted in public entities being liable for injuries that occur at public parks and other recreation facilities.

It's spreading all over the country. Look here to see for yourself, and check out this weak assed mother fucker. Guys like him are screamin' for a beatin'. Ruin everyones fun and tell yerself, while swimmin' in lawsuit money, the taxpayers money, that you're doin' everyone a favor. Safety, after all, is more important than fun, right. Pissants!

You know, I don't think I'd want to be a kid in this country in this day and age. I grew up in a better time, before lawyers and gutless politicians ruined everything and the NANNY STATE took over completely like the fuckin' BORG! I played with lethal fucking weapons when I was a kid (some store bought and some we made ourselves), with no parental observation, and aside from a few bruises and minimal wounds, came out of it wiser and better able to make good decisions in a dangerous world.

My buddies and I knew, from experience, that there were consequences to our actions. It was ether gonna be a bloody arm and knee from sliding out in a turn on our bikes after going down a hill at top speed, or it was gonna be an ass wuppin' from our dad for fuckin' up our school clothes. I don't know what kids today know. What do they learn from being banned from sliding down a fuckin' hillside on a sled? Maybe that all grownups are assholes? Maybe, lets hope, they learn that government fuckheads should mind their own business and leave kids alone.? Lets hope. By God, lets hope.

Oh hell, maybe I'm wrong after all. Maybe we should all just give up those old notions and accept the idea that safety is more important than liberty...

Who the hell...

Just a kid, stuck in the body of this fat bastard...

Still tryin' to figure out how to be the man I wanna be, with the help of some good friends.

Pure Wisdom

"Government is not reason, it is not eloquence, it is force; like fire, a troublesome servant and a fearful master. Never for a moment should it be left to irresponsible action."

- George Washington.

"We sleep soundly in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm."

- George Orwell.

"The French, they are a funny race,Parlez vous;They fight with their feet and they fuck with their face,Hinky dinky parlez vous."

- Popular World War 1 song.

"The privilege of great men is to view catastrophe from a terrace."

- Jean Giraudoux, from the book Tiger at the Gates.

"One finger professionally, Gentlemen; Two fingers socially."

- Gynecologist's saying.

"Political Correctness is a doctrine, fostered by a delusional, illogical, liberal minority and rabidly promoted by an unscrupulous mainstream media, which holds forth the propositionit is entirely possible to pick up a turd by the clean end."

- Some brilliant bastard.

"Sex in marriage is like medicine. Three times a day for the first week. Then once a day for another week. Then once every three to four days till the condition clears up."